


Twenty seven thousand and rising

by Sheffield



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:18:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7366975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheffield/pseuds/Sheffield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes solves John Watson's gambling problem</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty seven thousand and rising

Twenty seven thousand and rising… 

It had taken some time for Mycroft's minions to alert him to the situation and there was every chance it would now be too late. There were ways, of course, but something would irrevocably change if Mycroft had to bail out his brother's… John Watson… for that kind of sum. A medical emergency that was so secret that a medically compromised retired army surgeon had to be brought in? Laughably transparent. A previously unknown relative in Australia who died and left the Watsons comfortably situated? Incredibly difficult to fake to stand up to the required level of scrutiny. The lottery was surprisingly difficult to tamper with and a substantial win that coincided with a substantial loss would be… remarkably obvious, to the kind of opponents capable of operating at Mycroft's level.

Thirty two thousand and rising…

Inspector Lestrade was a possibility… if there were to be some kind of issue about the legality of the game in the first place…? But no, the gambling debt would remain even if the participants went to jail, and it would hardly be conducive to London's safety if Sherlock were distracted by John's incarceration. He might, however, prove useful… Mycroft despatched a minion.

Forty six thousand and rising…

Sherlock? Regrettably he was probably the only possibility with a more than fifty per cent chance of success. 

Fifty-eight thousand and rising…

He sent a car and had Anthea explain it to him on the way: texts could be intercepted, and their usual telephone dance of Sherlock's automatic negative and the endless chore of persuading him to do what he was going to do anyway would take too long.

Sixty-four thousand and rising…

He watched his covert feed into the club's internal video system intently. There was John Watson, doggedly staking again and again in the foolish gambler's belief that his luck would turn, and there was Sherlock, swooping in like Batman, Belstaff flying out like a cape, calmly eviscerating everyone at the table – Watson included, interesting… - and there was the Detective Inspector and his minions. No problem, officer, he lip-read. Ah yes – Lestrade was examining the equipment at the table closely and ostentatiously made the switch, breaking the seal on the new box himself.

Sixty four thousand pounds, though. He read Sherlock's lips – double or nothing! - and then sighed. He had wanted the situation damped down, not petrol thrown on the fire. His brother's smile was wolfish, though, as he handed the clean set to Watson. If he hadn't known it was happening (and under the eye of a professional gambling ring and half of Scotland yard!) he wouldn't have believed it. Those hours practising sleight of hand tricks from the conjuring books when they were children had been worth it. 

Double or nothing. Sherlock looked at his friend and smiled: Mycroft, lipreading, allowed himself a small smile too. "Roll the dice."

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #2: Roll The Dice


End file.
